


i want to come home

by themadtilde



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: A little angst, A little kissing, Fuck shadowhunters, M/M, Making Up, Raphael cares but refuses to admit it, a lot of clary bashing, also Simon is a little OOC, because he actually stands up to Clary, but happy ending, but not really, kind of a fix it, lots of Simon feels, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themadtilde/pseuds/themadtilde
Summary: “I don't need him? I don't need him?! I was just about to find myself, Clary. I have almost learnt to control my fangs, and my bloodlust. I’m still working through the pain of realizing that my normal, mundane life is over, I’m still trying to accept that I’m not going to grow old and see Becky and my mom without making them think I’m a damned monster, and I’m still trying to accept that I can’t go to Starbucks and buy my caramel macchiato and I can’t perform with Eric and Maureen and I can't ever see the sun anymore and I’m never going back to my childhood home again.But it’s getting easier. The clan’s been there for me, teaching me how to live this undead, damned life and training me. Raphael’s been there for me, helping me through the loss and the pain and making sure I don’t starve. And where haveyoubeen, Clary?”(basically just clary bashing and Simon standing up to her bc she uses him as a doormat too fuckin much)





	i want to come home

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ:**  
>  I know Simon is a bit OOC and the whole fic a bit rushed and exaggerated and maybe sloppily written. But I just have so many feels regarding Clary, Simon, vampirism and the betrayal and I needed to get this out. So yes, I am aware that this is a little childish, poorly written fic, but I seriously can't take it anymore. I need to bash Clary a little more, hehe. (Just like I did in my other fic, where it's Alec who voices his opinions and stands up for himself.)  
> It's been a while since I watched the series and I can't actually remember what happens and I don't know if Simon actually stayed at the Hotel or not. But in this fic, he did anyways. Canon divergence, ya know?
> 
> However, I swear, my writing is usually more slow-burn and carefully thought through than this. It's just an outlet for all my feels.
> 
> English isn't my first language, which is why I spell "realize" with a Z and why some of the grammar is maybe a little weird.
> 
> I don't own Shadowhunters because if I did, Rizzy wouldn't even be taken into consideration, Saphael would be canon and Malec would get more screentime.

Realization hits Simon like a rock, and he doubles over and sinks to his knees, not caring that he’s in the middle of the streets.

“What the fuck have I done?” he whispers to the ground, eyes widening slowly as realization dawns upon him. Clary’s crouching next to him at an instant, worriedly brushing his hair out of his eyes and stroking his back.

“Simon?” she asks, sounding concerned and mother-ly. Simon tears his gaze off of the ground and slowly looks up to meet her big, green eyes. He doesn’t recognize his own voice as he speaks.

“I betrayed the Clan … for you,” he says, and his voice sounds far away, like it isn’t he who’s saying it. Nonetheless, he can feel the words piercing through the numb fog that’s been occupying his mind ever since … since Raphael said … _that._

Clary’s face expression changes. One would almost call it compassionate and understanding, but there’s something off with her eyes. She doesn’t look like she actually cares and shares the pain of his betrayal with him, but she rather looks superiously impatient, like she’s talking to a five year old, trying to explain that there is nothing dangerous lurking the dark (except there totally is) and that sleeping is completely harmless. In order to not have to look at her almost condescending, impatient face, Simon turns his eyes back to his shoelaces.

“You did the right thing, Simon,” Clary assures him, and there it is again, that impatient and annoyed tone, like Simon’s a child that she has to take care of and explain things to.

He wants to believe Clary, because she’s _Clary_ and he’s always been able to trust her. But for the first time forever, her words clashes bad with Simon’s own thoughts. They don’t match reality.

And Simon knows, no matter what Clary says, that he didn’t do the right thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“I didn’t.” he says, and his voice is strangled. “It wasn’t the right thing to do … but _fuck,_ I realize that just now, and I’ve already fucked up …”

Clary’s eyes harden.

“You’re saying that saving my mother was the wrong thing to do?” she asks coolly, and pulls back her hand from Simon’s back. She looks at him expectantly, and it’s clear that she’s waiting for Simon to give in, to apologize and say that he’s been spitting nonsense these past minutes.

“I’m saying,” Simon says, still talking to his shoes, “that is was wrong to free Camille in order to save your mother. We … we should have waited. Maybe there would’ve been another … another way …” he trails off, and he can feel himself slipping into numbness again. His body refuses to realize what he’s just done.

_Simon’s betrayed us._

“Maybe there is, but it would’ve taken too long,” Clary says, and now she sounds tired, like she wants Simon to just stop talking. Which yeah, the majority of people, including Simon himself, usually wishes for, but Clary doesn’t sound fondly bothered by his talking anymore. Just plainly annoyed.

“We can finally do something to help my mother, Simon. Waiting even longer would only have given Valentine more time to -”

“I have nowhere to _go_ , Clary!” Simon cuts her off abruptly, surprising himself with his harsh tone. “It’s not like I can go back to the Hotel. And don’t say that I can come back to the Institute, because we all know that even if I weren’t a damned creature, they would not let me over their doorstep.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Simon, I would’ve …”

“Yeah, _you_ would have let me in,” Simon interrupts her again, and he can see that she’s losing her patience with him. “But the others, hm? Don’t you think I see the disgusted and hateful looks they give me every time I enter the room? Like I’m something the cat’s dragged in, like I’m a piece of rotten egg that they want to throw in the bin but they can't because you’re stopping them?”

Clary doesn’t answer this time, and Simon tilts his head back to look up at the infinite sky above them. He fixes his gaze on the crescent moon, hanging and glowing ominously in the night sky.

“And now Raphael’s in danger because of me,” Simon mumbles, more to himself than to Clary.

“Why does Raphael matter?” Clary asks, and it’s evident that she’s doing her best to keep her voice under control.

A sudden cold sweeps through Simon’s body and he hugs himself tighter, still sitting on the ground, and he realizes the consequences of his actions. It’s like he’s refused to see it before because Clary was there, Clary said it was right and the best thing to do and Clary always wants everyone’s best, right?

But now, Simon realizes, she only wants what’s best for herself. He’s pretty certain that she's not aware of her selfishness, and he knows her well enough to know that she, at most times, wants everyone and everything to be happy and fair. But lately, the Shadow world has made her too blind. All that’s mattered was her mother. Not Simon. Not the Night Children’s affairs, that are far more complicated and complex than what Clary’s small mind can wrap around. Not all the other Downworlder’s affairs, and not all the other Shadowhunter’s business that had been rolling smoothly and organized before Clary came bursting into the picture, demanding help and only taking without looking back to see the consequences she’s caused.

And now, Raphael’s in danger. Like, a serious, real danger. Because Camille is a crazy, manipulative bitch and Simon _knows_ this, but he was too blinded by Clary to care. 

“You don’t need him, Simon. He’s done nothing but spite you, insult you and do I need to mention the fact that he’s threatened your life several times?” Clary’s voice pulls him back to the present and Simon stares at her, and his mind is racing. Slowly standing up, he brushes some non-existent dust off of his knees and looks at Clary.

He’s standing before a crossroad, choosing between his old childhood best friend and a new vampire family that he’s just recently come to not-really-like-but-at-least-not-kill-each-other-terms with.

The choice isn’t easy, but it’s obvious.

“I don't need him? I don't  _need him?_ I was just about to find myself, Clary. I’ve made some actual friends at the Hotel. I have almost learnt to control my fangs, and my bloodlust. I know how to take advantage of my new vampire skills and senses, and I know how to protect myself from all the threats that comes along with being a Downworlder. I’m still working through the pain of realizing that my normal, mundane life is over, I’m still trying to accept that I’m not going to grow old and see Becky and my mom without making them think I’m a damned monster, and I’m still trying to accept that I can’t go to Starbucks and buy my caramel macchiato and I can’t perform with Eric and Maureen and I can't ever see the sun anymore and I’m never going back to my childhood home again.

These weeks have been _shit_ for me Clary, I can't even describe it. My whole life has been taken away from me and I’ve been completely fucked over by _your_ new fantastic world, and it’s going to take a hell of a lot of time before I’m going to be able to cool down and not think of myself as a pathetic, bloodsucking monster. But it’s getting easier. The clan’s been there for me, teaching me how to live this undead, damned life and training me. Raphael’s been there for me, helping me through the loss and the pain and making sure I don’t starve. And where have _you_ been, Clary?”

Clary looks like she wants to make an input, but Simon’s all wired up and he draws a sharp, shaky (unnecessary) breath before the words keep pouring.

“Right, you’ve been in your own world, learning about all these amazing Shadowhunting things and flirting with Jace and making new friends and discovering a new part of yourself. Because yeah, Jocelyn’s unconscious and that sucks, but you haven’t lost anything. You haven’t lost the ability to walk in sunlight, to eat normal human food and people around you admire you for your strength and runes. To them, you are a strong, independent girl who’s been through a lot but still is fighting. And that exact same people, they wrinkle their nose with disgust when I drink blood and I can see the prejudice and hostility when I show any indications of vampire strength or vampire nature. I know that even you find it gross when I drink blood, because I’ve seen the look on your face even when I drink it from a mug.

And you’re the one who sentenced me to this life, Clary. You made the choice for me, to turn me into this undead, bloodsucking and damned creature, because you couldn’t bear the thought of losing me. I know you didn’t think about the consequences and I know you did it because you thought it was the right thing to do, and I don’t hold it against you. Not anymore. But sometimes, it feels as if you just turned me for your own benefit. A friend who did everything for you, but now with super vampire abilities. Like an extremely well-trained and skillful dog, who would come and be to your service the second you called.”

Simon’s well aware of the fact that he’s rambling and talking too much, but he’s been repressing and shoving away his emotions for so long now, and he can't stop himself from ranting.

Clary’s quiet, and he sees a single tear slip down her cheek. She doesn’t answer - just looks at him with big, glossy eyes, and that makes Simon’s dead heart break even more. Because Clary does clearly not have anything to say to defend herself, and that means that Simon’s words have all been true. Harsh, bitter and mean. But true.

“I’m done, Clary,” he whispers quietly, and a cold breeze sweeps through the alley, carrying Simon’s word out into the night. Something changes in the air, and he can feel a strange, empty and hollow feeling settle in his stomach. A closure, an end is coming, and he knows it. Things are not going to be the same after tonight.

“I’m done running your errands. I’m done giving everything for you, while I get nothing in return. I … I want to go back to the Hotel. Home. Well, maybe not home.” He laughs shakily, and he can hear his voice go up an octave. “I don’t know if that will ever be my home. But I know that’s where I belong, no matter how much I try to fight it. I need them. I need the Clan. They’ve done so much for me. And, uh …  I - I don’t want to be a vampire.” He scratches his neck and looks to the side, taking in the sight of a knocked over trash can, and he keeps his eyes on it even when he resumes talking.

“I didn’t ask for this life, and it’s not fair that I have to live it, but … life isn’t fair, and it is what it is. I have to make the best of the situation, and for that, I need my own kind around me. At least until I’ve adjusted a little more … until I’ve learnt how to be vampire. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have to leave my real family behind and go to some crazy, abandoned Hotel and learn to drink blood and be taught how to not kill a human as soon as they walk by. But I’m doing it, mainly because I have no other choice, and you still asked me to betray them for you. First you sentence me to a damned life, and just as I’m about to actually adjust and cope, you want me to betray the only people who actually cared about me as a vampire, the only ones who actually helped me.”

Did he actually just say that? _It doesn't sound like me,_ Simon thinks. _It's not something I would say. But I did._

The silence between them is thick, laced with anticipation and carefully chosen words. They stare at each other, and Clary’s heated, affronted expression turns timid and ashamed.

Her mouth opens and closes, like she doesn't know what to say. Which is understandable, because if Simon were in her position, he would be speechless too.

“I’m sorry, Simon.” Her words are a whisper in the cold night air, and even though _sorry_ is far from fixing all the shit they’ve gone through, it’s a start. It’s a Something, and Simon can’t help but cling onto this Something.

He rubs his eyes tiredly.

“Could you like … leave me alone, for a few days? I have some things I need to figure out … and I think that you have some stuff to work through too,” he adds, a little lighter. Clary’s mouth curls upwards in a tentative, hesitant smile and she takes a step back. She's clearly still shaken by his outburst but she doesn't deny or oppress his accusations, and that makes the whole thing a little easier to bear. Knowing that despite all her wrongdoings, she can still understand when it's time to step back and not interfer anymore.

“You’re right. I … We need some time to think. I’m … I will see you some other time, though?” Her expressions turns expectant and unsure at the end of the sentence, and Simon gives her a small grin.

“Yeah, you will.”

She waves her hand in what sort of resembles a wave, and then she slips away into the shadows, disappearing down the dark streets.

Simon stands there, alone in the alley, looking after her. He’s not sure where to go now - he doesn’t feel like the same Simon anymore, and going back to the Hotel is a big no-no that would end with him being either staked or just pushed into the nearest ray of sunlight.

Just as he’s decided that he’s going to head down to the subway and find a nice bench to sleep on, a new voice startles him from behind.

“You’ve certainly proven yourself, fledgling,” comes a smooth, cool voice and Simon jerks, whipping around. But he already knows it’s Raphael who’s standing there, his pale face illuminated by the yellow light of the streetlights. He’s leaning against the wall, and his expression is unreadable as he surveys Simon up and down.

“How long have you been standing there?” Simon scowls, glaring at Raphael who looks as composed and authoritative as usual. He lazily eyes Simon, taking in the sight of his tousled hair and agitated expression.

“Long enough to know that you’re aware of what you’ve done,” he replies, and Simon can't help but roll his eyes at the vague response.

“That doesn’t even answer the question - have you been eavesdropping this whole time?” he complains, but despite trying to sound confident and accusing, he can't bring himself to sound truly annoyed.

“It’s hardly called eavesdropping when you’re shouting in the middle of the streets for everyone to hear,” drawls Raphael, and Simon stiffens.

“Okay, fair enough. Did you want something, other than tell me how much I’ve fucked up and how much you want to stake me and hang my head on your wall, or can you leave me alone so that I can go and become unconscious for a few hours and fret over how worthless I am, before I find a suitable beam of sunlight to step into?”

Okay, that was a little dramatic. He blames all the sloppy rom-com’s he’s watched. And the fact that the majority of what he just said is actually true.

The older vampire leaves the wall and starts coming towards Simon.

“Don’t even _joke_ about that,” Raphael admonishes, scowling. “I’ve been here long enough to hear you you say that you need the clan. That … you need me.” If Simon could blush, he definitely would at the carefully fond tone that Raphael used in the end of his sentence. He tears his gaze away from his feet to look at the other boy, who’s now right in front of him. Simon shrugs a little awkwardly, trying to bring out a tentative smile.

“It’s true, though,” Simon declares. “Without the clan, I would have either accidentally killed myself or turned insane a long time ago. You have all been teaching me and supporting me, and even though I was too stubborn to admit it in the beginning, I now know that I needed it. I need all of you. And I know I made a huge fucking mistake and I threw away your trust in me without even thinking about it, and I know sorry isn’t going to cut it and I know Camille’s still out there, threatening us-” threatening _you_ \- “and I don’t know how to make it up to you but I figure that since I have eternity to live, I can spend that eternity to gain your trust back and even then I don’t know if that will be enough, but I can at least try because -”

“ _Dios_ ,” sighs Raphael, sounding almost bored. "Even betrayal can't shut you up.”

Simon winces.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he mutters, and Raphael doesn’t say anything to object.

Simon pauses, and takes in Raphael’s dark, serious and expectant eyes, before he dares to open his mouth again.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, slower this time, and he emphasizes each syllable, hoping that he can at least give Raphael a hint of how sorry he actually is. “I know I fucked up and I know I don’t deserve to come back, but … I know my mistake. I know that I was wrong, and I want to make up for it. Because I … uh -” Raphael’s still looking at him, eyebrows raised and his eyes are expectant and not really  _mocking_ but definitely something along those lines, and that doesn’t make Simon any less nervous. Plus, he's way too close to Simon than what the personal-space rule allows, and Simon forces himself to look at Raphael's face and not his broad, firm shoulders as he speaks.

“I want to come back. I need the clan. And I … need you,” Simon confirms, averting his eyes from Raphael's cold stare.

Raphael tilts his head to the side, looking mockingly thoughtful.

"And how do I know if I ever can trust you again?" he muses, narrowing his eyes. "How do I know that you won't go running back to your Shadowhunter the second she wants to use you as a doormat again?"

Simon opens his mouth to defend Clary, out of pure habit, but he stops himself before any sounds can come out. Defending Clary is definitely not the best move he can do right now, so much can he grasp himself.

"Didn't you just hear my Shakespearian dialogue with her?" Simon asks instead. "I think I made it pretty clear that I don't want to be her pet vampire anymore. Maybe her friend - I can't speak for that yet. But I've learnt my place. And I'm willing to work hard to prove it to you. To the clan."

He clears his throat, and tries to meet Raphael's contemplative gaze.

"That was not even close to Shakespeare," replies Raphael, and Simon's caught off-guard at the sudden, misplaced statement. However, a hopeful feeling settles in his chest as he watches the other male’s apathetic mask slide off, and the faintest hint of a smile is playing on Raphael's lips.

"Well, unlike you I haven't actually met the dude. And maybe I'm not as poetic as Shakespeare, but I still mean what I say," Simon claims, feeling a lot more at ease now that Raphael isn't glaring daggers at him anymore.

Raphael flashes him an unreadable smile, so quick that it’s barely there, and Simon briefly wonders if this is what Raphael does before he rips the head off of his enemies. And Raphael moves so quickly, Simon doesn’t even have time to understand what’s happening before he feels a pair of cold lips against his own, and just like that, Raphael pulls away and smirks at Simon, who’s still not processed what just happened.

“I - wha?” Simon manages to stutter out eventually, and he glares when Raphael actually laughs shortly at him.

"You are going to have to do a lot more to convince the clan, though," says Raphael, acting as if he didn't just kiss Simon out of the blue. "

“Yeah, I'm not going to kiss them though," Simon shudders, and Raphael laughs and moves forwards again to press a quick kiss to his lips. This time, Simon melts into it and he closes his eyes when Raphael moves his mouth to Simon’s neck, slowly trailing a path of light kisses down his throat. And Simon feels a new feeling settle in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t dared to think about or wish for.

Hope.

"I haven't actually met Shakespeare," Raphael adds. "Ask Magnus if you want advice on Shakespearian quotes, but I would be genuinely surprised if you managed to pull off something poetic."

"Oh, you totally like it when I talk peotry to you," grins Simon, letting his hands rest on Raphael's hips to pull him closer, enjoying the feeling of the clan leader's solemn body against his.

Raphael’s breath is warm against Simon’s ear as he whispers:

“Let’s go home, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, not too happy with the ending but my main focus was to have Simon stand up to Clary, not to write an actually well-written fix it-fic.  
> Do please tell me what you thought of this! 
> 
>  
> 
> By the way, as I said, English isn't my native language and this isn't beta'd, so any mistakes are on me! (I'm actually Swedish. Do I have any Swedish-speaking readers?)


End file.
